


Legacy

by die-forellex (heatinfreezing)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Blood, Canon Divergence, Childbirth, Discussion of Pregnancy, Dissociation, F/M, First Time Sex, NSFW, Unwanted Pregnancy, in canon, no way this lines up with timelines lol, snk 107, this is AU as AU can be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-07 11:25:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15218132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heatinfreezing/pseuds/die-forellex
Summary: Perhaps duty has brought them together in this moment, but this isn’t something done out of boredom or out of fear that he may die sooner rather than later. Rather it is something born of a keen desperation between the both of them, the desire to know and be known by another, to feel understood in a world of misunderstanding, to be together if even for a moment when the both of them have felt alone for so, so, long.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hushpiper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hushpiper/gifts).



> No secret that I love EreHisu, always have but now it’s finally time I wrote some fic for it. I’m used to shipping disliked ships in snk so yolo I guess may as well cement that. Disclaimer, this fic is by no means a prediction for what I think is actually transpiring in canon but rather a what if scenario where I examine my favorite elements of their relationship/cry over my newfound love for Eren Jaeger bye.

 

Eren shouldn’t be here.

It’s late. Far beyond the proper hours for him to be visiting anyone, let alone a Queen, in her private quarters.

It’s a good thing Eren has stopped caring about such things a long time ago.

He knocks three times and waits. He can’t hear any footsteps inside, but the door is heavy so he doubts that it would be easy to hear through it. After a moment he considers knocking a fourth time but the door opens.

“Come inside,” Historia says quietly.

She lets him inside, looking out into the hallway both ways before shutting the door behind her. 

She doesn’t seem surprised to see him even though her appearance suggests that she wasn’t expecting anyone. Her golden hair is plaited and slung over her shoulder, past her collarbone. It’s long, longer than he’d realized since she wears it up in a twist most of the time.

They walk through a short hallway, past a sitting room and into a room with a large bed with a canopy. The room is lit by the soft glow of a lamp on the bedside table and the light of the half moon reflecting off the harbor through the glass balcony door. Her quarters are sparse for a queen but finer than anywhere Eren has laid his head to rest.

“You’re not going to change my mind, Eren,” she says.

She is a small woman, but when she speaks that way, resolved, convicted, determined, he feels no bigger than an ant.  But it doesn’t matter, not when so much is at risk.

“I can’t allow you to do this, not when there is something I can do to change it.”

“You don’t allow me to do anything,” she says, eyes flashing dangerously, “I’ve made my choice. This is the clearest way to ensure our survival.”

“At what cost? What is the point of survival when this is the price to be paid?”

“I’m willing to sacrifice myself for my people. They may have intended for me to be a puppet of a queen, but I have proven myself time and time again to be anything but.”

He remembers back to the cave. It seems to him both a lifetime ago and only a month ago, though his sense of what has passed and what has yet to pass becomes less and less stable to him by the day.

People still talk about the day she’d killed the giant titan, the small queen who’d felled the beast and emerged triumphant.

But Eren knows it was more than that, a day that a girl who’d never been wanted or recognized was suddenly looked to by an entire people.

He takes a step towards her so they are but a pace apart.

“But what about the child?”

She looks away for a second before meeting his gaze again.

“All of my subjects are my children, so why would the child of my body be different from any other subject of mine? A subject to love, but also to command.”

Eren clenches his fists, his anger that he can’t keep at bay swelling to the surface.

“You don’t believe that, I know you don’t.”

“It’s because he’s your brother, isn’t it?” She deflects, her tone is deceptively careless. “I understand what it’s like to love a sibling, truly, but he will die regardless of whether I inherit the Beast Titan or not.”

“This has nothing to do with him or his life. I don’t give a damn about what he wants, not now, not in this,” he growls, “this has everything to do with you. How can you repeat the mistakes of your father? Of both of our fathers?”

“I can’t speak for you, but I am  _not_  my father,” she says, her expression grim and striking fear into his heart, “and how dare you even say such a thing to me.”

He steps closer to her and takes her small hand in his own, her skin even paler in the warm glow of the the moonlight against his own suntanned hand. She gasps, surprised at the contact, but doesn’t pull away from him.

“I know that,” he runs his thumb over the top of her hand, “you could never be him.”

Tears well up in her eyes. She doesn’t look away from him, her emotions honest and plain to him in a way that has always been reserved for him and him alone.

“I have to do this Eren, I have to,” she whispers, her voice wavering, “I want your support in this. I need it I...I can’t do this without you,” she pauses before she steps closer to him, so close that her hand in his is pressed against his chest. She reaches up and cups his cheek in her free hand. She runs her thumb along his cheekbone and Eren shivers, the sensation of her touch enough to make his hair stand on end, “rather...I want you to do this with me.”

He blinks twice.

“What do you...you want…”

“It’s always been us, all of these years...no one else can understand the way you do, and if it’s not you, it’ll be a stranger. Someone I make a child with and never see after I’ve paid them for their service to the crown...if that’s what it takes, I’ll do it but…” she releases a shaky breath before she pulls his head down to her’s, his back hunching forward as he presses his forehead against hers, “but it seems more bearable if it’s you.”

He looks into her eyes and thinks back to the cave all those years ago, of how she’d looked at him and in one moment she’d decided the both of their fates.

Now it is his turn to do the same for her.

He says nothing before he presses his mouth to her’s. She gasps a little in surprise before she leans into him and wraps her arms around his neck.

He’s kissed a few girls, all of them a long time ago, but not enough for this kiss to seem anything but the event it is. This is different from those times. Perhaps duty has brought them together in this moment, but this isn’t something done out of boredom or out of fear that he may die sooner rather than later. Rather it is something born of a keen desperation between the both of them, the desire to know and be known by another, to feel understood in a world of misunderstanding, to be together if even for a moment when the both of them have felt alone for so, so, long.

She presses her tongue to the seam of his lips and he tastes her, their teeth bumping together awkwardly. She threads a hand in his hair, now long enough for her to grab in a fist as she pulls him closer to her, his body pressed up against hers.

They break apart and he rests his head on her shoulder, inhaling deeply and exhaling shakily. He pulls the tie off the end of her braid and runs his hand through her hair, undoing it until it hangs loose over her shoulders, the smell of her soap filling the air. He reaches down the front of her nightgown, the v-shaped-neckline falling loose as he does so. He finds only bare skin, the flesh of her breast soft and warm against the palm of his hand. He traces a fingertip accidentally over her nipple and she whimpers, the sound so startling he pulls away as if burned.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–”

“Did I–”

Her cheeks are flushed red in embarrassment and he thinks that if he were of a fairer complexion he’d look the same.

“I haven’t done this before,” she blurts out, as unqueenly as possible.

“Me either.”

She raises her eyebrows.

“Really?”

“Of course not,” he says, “when would I have? With who?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t thought about it I just..assumed, I guess,” she shakes her head, “but it doesn’t matter either way,” she begins to unbutton the front of her nightgown until she shrugs it off onto the floor, leaving her bare from the waist up.

She’s as beautiful as he would’ve imagined. Her breasts are small, rosy pink nipples pointed cold in the open air of the room, her golden hair tumbling down her back. He can see a light dusting of the same light hair leading from her navel down into her white lace panties. His throat goes dry thinking about what is hidden by such a small bit of fabric.

Historia sits herself on the bed. He notes that her hips have widened over the years, the life of a queen different from that of a soldier, but her calves and thighs are still thick and muscled. If he squints he can see the small groove on her thighs that 3DMG gear has seemingly etched into permanence.

She looks him up and down and Eren gets the strangest feeling that he is being sized up, a lioness observing her prey. Her chin points forward and even though she is sitting he gets the feeling that she is looking down upon him, her demeanor every bit the queen that she is.

“I’ve taken off my clothes, it seems a bit unfair that you remain clothed, doesn’t it?”

He takes them off slowly because even if she is a queen he still has some semblance of pride. He folds his shirt and sets it on the chair in the corner of the room before he does the same with his pants and socks. He makes himself looks at her the whole time. Even if the weight of her eyes are a heavy thing he will bear her scrutiny fearlessly.

When he is standing only in his underclothes he pauses before he bends over and takes them off. Her eyes are wide. She hadn’t expected him to take off all of his clothes. Her once queenly demeanor is gone as she studies him, her expression intrigued with an edge of something he thinks can only be desire. The idea that she may want him, even in circumstances like this makes his stomach turn.

“Come here,” she says.

He gets on the bed and straddles her. She lies back and spreads her legs apart, cradling his hips in her own, the two of them separated merely by the flimsy lace of her panties. He swallows nervously before he speaks.

“This is what you want?”

“These circumstances...are not what I want. Not at all,” she says, her voice trembling. Eren’s stomach turns. Right as he is about to move away from her, put on his clothes and go back to his quarters she turns his face to her and looks at him. “I don’t want to have a child, not right now, and not for these purposes, that is true. But you...you I have wanted for a long time,” she admits quietly, “and I grow tired of always wanting, longing for people and places that love me but seem so, so, far away.”

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he reminds her. It’s not too late, they haven’t done anything that can’t be undone, after all.

She smiles sadly.

“But it does, and I think you understand that, Eren...our lives have never belonged to ourselves, not in a true sense. If it weren’t you it would be someone else, and I mean that. But perhaps in this...with choosing you at the very least I can live for myself, even in this duty.”

Her expression is sad yet resigned, and he doesn’t think that he can do this. Not this way. He toys with a strand of her hair, soft and slippery on his index finger.

“Let’s forget circumstance then,” he kisses her on the mouth gently and pulls away, “this isn’t about anyone or anything else.”

She nods.

Eren kisses her. He lets his hands roam her body. She’s soft and warm everywhere he touches, the dip of her waist, the modest swell of her breast, the curve of her hip are all places he can’t possibly touch enough. She kisses him back, nervously at first but then deeper and wanting, opening her mouth to him and pulling him closer still. She runs her hands over his shoulders and wraps her legs around him.

Eren hasn’t thought of this exact scenario, hasn’t allowed himself to openly want Historia Reiss even in the deepest of his fantasies. He thinks that that would’ve been a pointless exercise because nothing could compare to her presence; the real, flesh and blood body of the girl who has seen him for who he truly is.

He tentatively brushes against her nipple and she gasps, this time louder than before.

“Is that nice?” he asks.

“Yes,” she says certainly, if slightly breathy.

Her sadness from earlier falls away and is replaced with want, plain and unmistakable as she looks at him. He’s starting to grow impatient, but despite this he makes himself go slowly as he pulls down her panties, twisting them off of her legs and throwing them aside.

He kisses down her throat, the taste of her skin clean with the slightest bit of sweat. He rests his cheek on her breast, warm and soft with the thumping beat of her heart vibrating in his ear before he takes her nipple into his mouth.

She sighs and cards her fingers through his hair, panting and squirming up against him, her hips pushing up against his thigh as he figures out how she likes to be touched.

She pulls him away from her breast and kisses him again, this time hard and hungry, her fingernails digging into his shoulders and teeth biting at him the whole while as she rocks her hips up against him.

They move against one another as they kiss like this. She feels wet and slick against him and the thought of this makes him grow harder than he already is. They move together experimentally, an inexperienced rehearsal for what they both want from the other. 

Historia reaches down and grabs his cock and strokes him, her small, soft hand tight around him. He lets out a groan but the sound is lost in their kiss.

This must give her confidence because she starts to move her hand more confidently, easy, light strokes that while different from the way he does it seems all the more better for it being her. It feels  _good_. Too good.

“Stop,” he rasps.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, not at all, opposite,” he says shortly.

Realization dawns on her and she smiles a little.

“Oh, okay,” she kisses him on his throat, his pulse beating frantically against her lips as she gently scrapes her teeth on his skin, “I want you, I want this,” she says again, spreading her legs further beneath him. It’s an affirmation that he is grateful for.

He adjusts a little, using a hand to guide himself inside her. He tries to be slow, he’s heard others talk about some sort of barrier that girls have that can be unpleasant for them, but he finds no such resistance. She’s so warm and tight around him that he can’t help but sink into her further until their hips meet fully.

“Does it hurt at all?” he grits out, the desire to move more insistent than he ever would’ve imagined.

She shakes her head. “No, just,” she wiggles against him and he can’t help but groan, “full feeling,” she says.

He still moves gently, as carefully as he can manage. She kisses him, once, twice, over and over until he loses count. He fins himself wrapped up so fully in her he can’t think of anything outside of her, her warmth, her touch, her smell, her embrace the only thing he needs.

He thinks that she’s close to something good, there are a few times where she moans and grips him tightly, but he doesn’t manage to get her there before he finishes with her name on his lips.

His chest pressed against her’s, heart to heart beating madly against their chests. He makes to move off of her but she stops him.

“Stay, just a moment, just like this,” she says.

And he does stay for that moment, the two of them closer than close.

After the moment passes he rolls off of her and they lay on their sides together, arms and legs tangled up in the other one as they share each other’s breath. She runs her hand over his face, looks at him with a sense of wonder that he is almost certain is mirrored on his own face. She brushes his hair out of his eyes tenderly, traces his bottom lip with her finger tip as if she is doing all she can to preserve the moment.

He does the same, looking at every detail on her face that he can. He notes details that would be easy to miss, a freckle right beneath her left ear, the slight asymmetry of her mouth, the way her hair falls unevenly over her right eye.

He remembers another face, a blonde haired woman who’s hair was short and a warm yet weary smile. The memory has an odd, hazy quality that tells him it’s not his own but rather his father’s. Another royal woman who bore a child for the sake of destiny.

Eren’s stomach turns at this. No. This isn’t that, it will never be that. He won’t allow it.

He commits Historia Reiss’s face to memory, looks at her long enough that he knows that even when he closes his eyes he will see her and her alone, that there will be no mistaking her for anyone in the past, present or even the future.

He kisses her again, slow and gentle until it’s not.

“Show me,” he insists.

“Show you what?” she asks, clearly drunk on kisses and touch.

“Show me how to make you feel good.” He grabs her hand and she allows him to place it between her legs.

“I,” she hesitates but then she nods, “okay. It’s like this.”

Eren watches her move her hand, light fingertips moving in circles just so. He kisses her throat and bites at her earlobe as she touches herself.

“I want to try,” he murmurs into her ear, he smooths his hand down her stomach, all the way down to where her hand is on her sex, “I want to touch you.”

She moans at his words and presses her hips up against his hand.

“Yes, I want you to touch me too, please,” she says, clearly still wound up and wanting from earlier.

He tries his best to replicate what he’d seen her do, and with a little bit of effort and correction from her he manages to wring the most wonderful sounds from her, all until her back arches off the bed, eyes shut tight as she comes, biting back a shout she muffles with her own hand.

They kiss, slow and easy for what could be minutes or hours after that, kissing and touching each part of the other one, places that Eren has never even considered notable places, the inside of a wrist, the back of a knee, the slight dip between her hipbone and thigh, all things about her that he wants to remember.

Later when he’s recovered enough they have each other again, this time with her on top, her hands on his chest, pinning him down in a way that speaks to Eren’s deepest, most secret desires.

When they’re done they go into the bathroom and shower together, the new plumbing brought by the Marleyan dissidents still luxurious and new to him despite being around for almost a year. She likes the water hot, just like he does. Eren rubs a bar of soap all along her body and she does the same for him, her small hands gentle on his flushed skin.

They dry themselves with towels and she offers him a loose linen shirt to sleep in.

“I should sleep elsewhere, shouldn’t I?”

She frowns. “Just stay for a little while, until the sun rises. Then you can leave before anyone comes to help dress me for the day. If we oversleep I’ll just say I want to ready myself and no one need be any the wiser.”

He reluctantly takes the shirt she offers him and examines it.

“Where is this from?” He asks dryly.

She rolls her eyes.

“It’s Captain Levi’s, on his last rotation to the capital he ripped it and I said I would mend it for him.”

Eren laughs at the prospect.

“I’m sure he took to that well, a queen demanding to do his sewing,” he pulls on the shirt. It’s loose in the shoulders and extremely short in the sleeves, ending midway on his forearms and barely covering his navel.

Historia giggles at how foolish he looks, but then yawns.

“I need to sleep.”

She lies down, her still wet hair pooling on the pillow, her eyes distant as she looks at the ceiling.

“What are you thinking about?”

She shakes her head.

“Everything I shouldn’t. Things that are best left to tomorrow.”

He says nothing but lays down and pulls her close to him, his arms wrapped around her.

“I meant it, Eren,” she says before she drifts off to sleep, “I wanted this with you,” she laces their fingers together, her breathing evening out until she falls asleep.

He lays there like that with her, listening to her breath until the sky lightens to the dark purple before sunrise.

Eren gets up as quietly as he can and dresses himself in his own clothes. It’s harder than he’d anticipated but there is no doubt inside of him.

He takes one last glance at her over his shoulder. Her face is serene, lips slightly parted and knees tucked toward her chest as she sleeps.

“I’m sorry I have to do this, Historia,” he says quietly.

He doesn’t leave her a letter, she won’t need one. She’ll know where he has gone in due time. He hopes that she will forgive him for this, but even if she doesn’t he knows that it’s the only choice he has.

He opens the balcony door and slides down the column supporting the balcony. He lands on the grass and walks toward the harbor. There is a small boat, one he’s noted for the past few weeks. It’s not as nice as newer ones that have been built, but it will suit his purposes just fine. He’s stocked it with enough materials that, if he is shrewd, it’ll get him to where he needs to go.

He remembers the way through his father’s eyes. He starts the boat’s engine and doesn’t look back as he pulls out of the harbor.

When he’s gone so far out to sea he thinks about Mikasa and Armin, about how they both had said that what they’d needed is time.

He’d always known that time was a luxury they’d never had, but it’s true now more than ever. Eren knows that he’s going down a path that even they cannot follow, and he wouldn’t want them to.

He is done thinking that he can save humanity, done thinking that even he himself will ever be free from this bondage. 

Maybe he was wrong to have had her, maybe he shouldn’t have allowed himself to love her, but it’s a useless thought. It was already too late for either of them.

The best he can hope for is a future. A future for Historia, where she can raise her child...their child, free from persecution and the designs of others, repeatedly sacrificing others for the ever intangible greater good.

Many things are less certain than they had once been, but he is certain that Historia Reiss is worth whatever sacrifice he needs to make. He looks out to where the sky meets the ocean, a future that is both limited and limitless ahead.

She trusted him years ago in that cave. Trusted him with her family’s power, with the Founding Titan. The only choice there is the one he makes.

He  _will_ get Zeke to help him use the Founding Titan to save Historia from sharing his own fate. 

No matter what has transpired, he has never been more certain he is not his father.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, this is turning into a medium length story. Thank you all for the support you've shown me as I've written this story. 
> 
> I will not turn on comment moderation on this story. If you feel the need to make a fool of yourself in my comment section go right ahead, but know I will not respond to any hateful comments on this story. It's unfortunate that so many feel the need to do this, but it's not my problem if you're an ass who has no better way to spend their time. To those of you that have enjoyed this story, I welcome you and appreciate every single one of you! 
> 
> I hope to complete this by the end of the month.

“He’s gone, your grace.”

Hanji adjusts her glasses nervously as she breaks the news, but Historia is already aware.

She had known this morning when the dawn had come. No note. Just rumpled bedding where a person had laid, vacant long enough to no longer hold any warmth.

“What can be done?” she asks.

Historia sits up straight, like a rod is tied tight to her back. She has traded blades for formality, the camaraderie of a soldier’s life for distance.

Sometimes she thinks the only time she had been a real person was years ago in that cave. She thinks back on the previous night, of traded promises, of whispering touches and warm embraces.

Perhaps I’m not the best judge of what is real or what is not.

“I’m afraid that all there is to do is wait,” Hanji’s expression darkens. “It’s too risky to send people after him with so little information, and I don’t believe he wants to be found.”

Historia reaches for her teacup and takes a sip. It’s hot, too hot, but she swallows it all the same.

“Very well. There’s no more to discuss. Please keep me informed of any developments.”

Hanji accepts her dismissal. On her way out she hesitates.

“Historia,” she says, her voice low, “please, reconsider this plan. Give us more time. Let us find Eren and see what negotiations can be made with Zeke Jaeger.”

Historia doesn’t mind being addressed so informally. In many ways, it reminds her that,  while tempting, Hanji’s words are for Historia, someone who existed briefly as a soldier in between Krista Lenz and Queen Historia Reiss.  

Someone who doesn’t exist any longer.

“Were it so easy,” she says quietly. She thinks about last night, about what could be a new life growing inside of her. She feels eerily sickened by the idea of pregnancy. “We will see what the future holds.”

Hanji’s shoulders tense for a moment. She leaves without another word.

Historia sips the still-too-hot tea and looks out the window at the ocean, the bright afternoon sunlight shimmering like diamonds on the water’s surface.

The ocean that carried Eren far away.

She was wrong to believe he would be on her side, wrong to think it would be easier with him.

_If I’m not pregnant I will try again._

_._

_._

Historia feels more tired than usual.

The courtroom is filled with people, each military commander lined up neatly in front of her with their respective entourages. The summer sun shines in through the open windows and a bird darts around in the rafters. Despite the breeze, sweat beads on Historia’s brow. She lets it stay there, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

It has been two months since Eren left.

“We have no way of knowing if he even made landfall,” Hanji says adjusting her eye glasses, “and no way of contacting him.”

“Commander,” Armin interjects, “I can confirm that Eren had access to memories from his father. He would know the way there, and barring any sort of malfunction I am certain he would have.” Armin’s expression darkens. “He knows where he’s going, and he knows what he is doing.”

Historia can feel Armin’s disappointment. She glances at Mikasa, who sits three rows back with Jean and Sasha. Her expression does not betray her, but the coldness in her eyes is too distant for her, too forced at the mention of Eren’s betrayal for it to be genuine disinterest.

The higher-ranking officers have been calling it insubordination, but insubordination doesn’t feel like this. Doesn’t hurt like this.

Historia’s stomach turns uncomfortably but she ignores it.

The breeze blows in through the window. She catches a whiff of General Zackley’s cologne and gags audibly.

“Your grace, are you well?” he asks her.

She nods and swallows.

“Yes, please continue,” she grits out.

The commanders all look at her warily but obey.

“All that can be done is to wait,” Hanji sighs. “We don’t have the capability to send in a team blind, and I’m not willing to trust intelligence that isn’t verified.”

Historia feels the sunlight stream onto her face, she listens to the waves lapping at the harbor for a moment to calm herself. She needs to to keep her anger from showing.

“Very well then. We wait.”

She stands, smoothing her skirt. Everyone imitates as she exits through the double doors and into the atrium outside.

“Your grace,” Zackley trails after her, “a moment, if you could.”

She turns to him and smells that same, sickly sweet smell on him but this time there is no breeze to dispel it.

She vomits on his shoes.

.

.

“You need to be taken away. To the countryside preferably, somewhere more suited to your delicate condition.”

Historia bristles at Hanji’s words.

“I’m not delicate. It’s early. There’s no reason I can’t continue on with my duties. I feel fine.”

This is something of a lie on her part. She hasn’t been able to eat anything besides stale bread and water for the last three weeks, and no matter how long she sleeps she wakes up tired. But it’s nothing she can’t endure.

Hanji doesn’t challenge the lie directly, but she glances at her meaningfully.

“I don’t understand why we shouldn’t at least wait until it’s visible,” Historia says cooly.

Hanji sighs.

“The anti-Marleyan contingent of this deal insist upon you being hidden away somewhere safe with their own guards.”

Historia’s stomach sinks, cold terror creeping into her as she imagines it. Being sheltered far away. Hidden like something dirty or shameful just as she’d been as a girl.

She bites her lip and nods. She can’t speak because she knows she’ll burst into tears if she does.

“I’m going to send Mikasa with you. I don’t want you to be alone, and I think she could use a bit of space from everything going on around here anyway.”

A brief wave of relief washes over Historia, although the anxiety quickly returns.

_I’m carrying the child of her most precious person and she doesn’t know. No one knows._

“The caravan will leave tomorrow. I have the coordinates of where you will stay written down, and Mikasa has them as well. If you are not taken to where I expect, she will notify me.”

The fragility of the trust between her government and its supposed ally unsettles Historia, especially when she has sacrificed so much in the name of their cause.

“I’ll prepare my things,” she says quietly.

Hanji leaves and Historia is alone.

Suddenly Historia’s clothes feel tight, too restrictive on her skin. She pulls off her dress, leaving it rumpled on the floor, and picks up a robe before she walks out onto her balcony.

The ocean is retreating toward Paradis’ distant enemy as the sun sets on the horizon. Soldiers maneuver boats off the coast, practicing newly discovered naval feats. She clenches the balcony railing so tightly her knuckles turn white.

_How dare you leave me, Eren Jaeger._

_._

_._

Eren’s crutch digs into his armpit as he hobbles around the refugee camp. He adjusts the white armband on his left arm as he does so. It annoys him when it slips down.

He’s still not used to how heavy it feels. Here it is accepted that Eldians are dangerous, that their monstrous potential must be broadcasted to all to keep the rest of the citizens safe. It’s almost funny, all things considered.

_Monstrous potential indeed._

“Mr. Kruger!”

Eren sees Falco’s yellow armband before he sees the boy himself. It bothers him how after only two months he’s already trained to look for this detail before all other things.

“Hello, Falco.” Eren makes a show of hobbling to the bench weakly and gestures for Falco to sit down by him. Falco excitedly sits, cheeks flushed and eyes shining with misplaced admiration as he does so.

“How have you been? How is your warrior training going?”

“It’s going really well!” Falco puffs out his chest, “I got second in the races today, which is my personal best.”

“That’s very good,” Eren says. “Do you have any mail for me today?”

“Yes, sir, I do!” Falco reaches inside his jacket and pulls out the letter, clearly unopened, and hands it to him. The front is blank but Eren knows whom it is from. He tucks it it into his breast pocket to read later.

“Thank you very much, Falco. You know how hard it has been for me to get in touch with people. I’m hoping to be reunited with my family someday,” Eren says kindly.

Falco, being the sweet boy he is, frowns.

“It’s terrible, what has happened here. To all of us Eldians.” Falco catches himself and shakes his head, “Not that we don’t deserve it, of course,” he adds nervously, “but either way I’m sure you’ll be reunited with your family.”

Eren thinks not of his brother, or even Mikasa and Armin, but of Historia. Not Queen Historia Reiss, the woman who had asked he father her child, but the person who occupies the space in between her duty and her desire to live for herself.

Eren looks at Falco. He’s talking about something menial and Eren can’t quite focus on what he’s saying.

It’s unfortunate what he will have to do to save what matters.

.

.

“Ten of leaves,” Mikasa says dryly.

Historia shakes her head. “Nope!”

Mikasa huffs and draws another card from the deck, adding it to her already large hand. Mikasa is terrible at card games. They’ve played every day for the last three months and for every time Mikasa wins Historia wins three times.

“You can put some on the ground if you can’t hold them all,” Historia says slyly.

“How gracious of you,” Mikasa deadpans.

Historia giggles. “I am a queen, afterall.”

“Do you have any bells?”

Mikasa frowns and glares so much that Historia starts laughing again. Mikasa hands over all of her bells. Historia lays out all of her completed sets of four on the ground, emptying her hand of cards.

“Do you want to play again?” Historia asks as she shuffles the deck.

Mikasa sighs and rocks back on her sit bones.

“Not really, but it’s not like we have much else we can do,” she glances over at the Marleyan guards boredly.

Historia feels a sharp jab around her navel, and then another sharp kick down to her bladder.

She tries her best to ignore many things these days.

Historia struggles to get up, her large, rounded stomach nothing but a hindrance. Mikasa rushes to help her up. Historia huffs. Her back aches and her feet throb as if she’d walked the entire perimeter of Wall Sina, even though she’s been sitting for the better part of the day.

“Thank you,” Historia says as she straightens her skirt over her stomach.

“Of course, it’s what I’m here for,” Mikasa says gently.

There’s something perpetually sad about the way Mikasa looks at her and it bothers Historia. She supposes that it can’t really be helped. After all, Historia is living many a woman’s worst nightmare. It’s a hard fate to see play out when you know that it could just as easily be you. Still, Historia doesn’t like the feeling of being pitied.

_I made this choice._

She clings to that fact. No matter how angry she still feels at Eren, no matter how wrong this whole situation feels, she will not reduce herself to a pawn, even if others insist upon doing so. She thinks angrily back to Commander Hanji’s constant stream of apologetic letters that border on pity.

“I may go and try to get a good work out in, if you don’t mind,” Mikasa says distantly. “These guards are so useless as fighting partners.”

Mikasa, for all of her strengths as a companion and guard, is not suited to idleness. She is restless and impatient in ways that Historia wouldn’t have anticipated. Beneath her stoic facade is an intensely passionate woman who barely manages to keep her impulses in check. Historia feels exhausted even thinking about how Mikasa manages to conceal such strong emotions below a calm surface.

“Yes, please go and do what you need to. I’ll just be back here. Though that goes without saying.” Historia tries to keep the disappointment out of her tone but knows she isn’t entirely successful, guilt creeping into Mikasa’s expression.

“I won’t be long,” Mikasa slings her bag and a jug of water over her shoulder, “and I’ll just be in the clearing to the east if you need me. I’d be able to hear you if you screamed—”

“It’s fine, really,” Historia insists. “I have some correspondence I’d like to catch up on anyway.”

Mikasa leaves and Historia has to fight away the awful loneliness that is always waiting for her, clawing at her at any moment of weakness.

She feels another kick and frowns. Perhaps in another circumstance this would be a sweet and gentle reminder that she is never truly alone, but in the present it only irritates her.

Historia pushes the thought away to a nice, neat space that she’s designated for dealing with at some undetermined point in the future.

She has been in this cabin for the last five months. The secluded structure is austere but also cozy. She shares a bedroom with Mikasa. In the corner of their room sits a wooden escritoire where she keeps all of her official matters.

She sits herself down on the uncomfortable wooden chair and rifles through her papers. The pile of documents includes no letters to reply to. The last correspondence she’d received was well over a week old. She can’t help but feel that everyone finds her so uncomfortable to think about that they’d rather forget her entirely.

_Stop wallowing._

It’s hard to keep these thoughts at bay, but she pushes them away diligently. Otherwise all she would be is the same sad, unwanted child she had always been. And that’s something she couldn’t handle.

Historia immerses herself in legal documents and books for an indiscernible amount of time. She’s read everything on her desk multiple times but feels the need to stay busy, like she is serving a purpose outside of continuing her family line.

The thought of it makes her shiver.

She hears the outside door open loudly. Historia gets up as quickly as she can — slowly, painfully, uncomfortably — to find Mikasa and Captain Levi standing in the living area. Levi looks as put together as always, if a little windswept from travel.

“What’s happened?” Historia asks.

“It’s Eren,” Mikasa says. “He’s written.”

Historia digs her fingernails into the palms of her hand so tightly she’s sure that they break the skin.

“What does he have to say?”

Levi looks as displeased as Historia feels.

“He has grand plans to break that trash Zeke Jaeger out of his cage,” Levi says the man’s name like a curse. “We’re all to put on some sort of show while we do it.” Levi looks away, clearly irritated. “It goes without saying that when I see him I’m going to kick the shit out of him.”

Mikasa glares at Levi, but even she doesn’t have the gall to argue with him.

“He also has heard news of a new titan — a powerful titan called the warhammer. He plans to challenge it at a festival and devour the current holder,” Mikasa says darkly.

“At a festival? But why? The amount of casualties would be catastrophic! We’d be opening ourselves up to an attack that’s actually warranted with this great of an offense. Why would he do this?” Historia’s head is swimming from her anger.

_How? How could he endanger us like this?_

Levi looks meaningfully at her, first at her face and then to her stomach in a way that makes her feel the need to turn away.

“I can think of a couple things,” Levi says dryly.

She shouldn’t be surprised that of all people Levi is the one to suspect who the father of her child is. No one has dared to ask her, and in all honesty it doesn’t matter to most. She runs a hand over her swollen stomach without thinking, but when she realizes what she’s done she pulls her hand away as if burned.

“He should have listened to me,” she whispers tiredly. She sits down on the dusty sofa wearily.

“We need to go,” Mikasa says. She seems to have missed the exchange between Levi and Historia in lieu of figuring out how she’s going to launch herself across the ocean as quickly as possible.

“My horse is tired and the sun is going to set in a half hour, we need to stay the night.”

“Leave your horse and ride on mine with me—“

Levi snorts.

“You don’t mean that, that’s ridiculous,” he puts a hand on her shoulder and Mikasa looks down at him, her eager expression slightly subdued. “If we leave at dawn tomorrow we will make it in a day.”

She sighs and nods.

“Besides, there’s no way anyone is going to invade a country without us. Jean could tell them what formation to die in and Armin could blow them all to pieces, but the whole thing would fall apart,” he says plainly.

Mikasa scoffs. Historia would laugh at his candor if Levi’s words from earlier weren’t still repeating in her head over and over again.

_Did Eren really do all of this because of me?_

He was the only one to stand for her when this whole plan had been proposed. The thought of him on that day makes her heart twist in her chest.

Historia pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs wearily. She can’t think about Eren and his reasons, because no matter what they are it doesn’t change what he’s gone forward with. He has endangered them all.

Levi goes into the kitchen and heats some water for evening tea. Mikasa looks like she’s doing everything she can not to pace around the room like a caged animal.

Historia flexes her feet and Mikasa takes this as an invitation to rub them.

“You don’t have to do that,” Historia says as Mikasa reaches for a jar of lotion.

“Need something to do with my hands.” Mikasa kneels down on the ground and rubs lotion onto Historia’s aching feet. She groans at the relief.

“Besides,” Mikasa adds, “wasn’t it my family’s purpose to serve your’s once upon a time?”

Historia smiles a little at this.

“You’re right, but now that you’re some secret princess, perhaps this is more inappropriate,” Historia teases.

Mikasa’s cheeks redden and she looks away.

“I never wanted any of that. I’m the same as I always was. I’ve never even been there,” Mikasa tugs her sleeve a little over her wrist, “so I’d rather think of us simply as two women rather than social peers.”

“I think that sounds nice,” Historia says quietly.

Mikasa rubs her friend’s feet and calves until Historia thinks she could fall asleep from how relaxed she feels, were it not for the thing inside of her squirming around as she sips her water.

“Thank you very much,” Historia says when she’s done.

“Of course,” Mikasa replies, “I’m really sorry that I won’t be here for...everything,” Mikasa looks down disappointedly, “but you understand that I need to go.”

Historia grabs Mikasa’s hand in her own, the palm still smooth and soft from lotion.

“Don’t apologize for going where you are needed. Don’t apologize for doing what you know is right,” Historia says seriously, “I will be okay.”

Historia isn’t sure she believes this, but part of being a Queen is inspiring confidence in others, not necessarily having it in oneself.

Mikasa nods and squeezes her hand tightly. She blinks a few times, as if she’s trying not to cry.

“I just can’t help but feel you need me here too,” she whispers, “I don’t want you to feel alone.”

Mikasa’s heart is simple. She loves deeply and intensely, and Historia thinks it’s unfair how many dismiss this as a simple and easy thing. She thinks Mikasa probably hurts more than she can imagine.

Historia, Levi, and Mikasa share a quiet dinner together. When they’re done eating, Historia goes to bed by herself. She’s exhausted and assumes that the two of them will stay up discussing their journey to the harbor together.

She closes her eyes. Thankfully the child is still, so she can rest. Sometimes it moves around at night. Its insistence on making its presence known is maddening.

She tries not to think about Eren most nights, but she can’t stop herself tonight. 

She hates herself for missing him in moments like this. She hates missing people in general. At least Frieda had been able to spare her that pain. Now it seems to be all she does, long for those that she can never hold close again. First Ymir, and now Eren.

She wonders if there is something wrong with her, if there’s something about her that makes her so easy to leave behind.

Historia was born into loneliness and lived shrouded in lies. This darkness remains woven into her soul, a part of her that she can never erase or fully leave behind. She thinks of the unwanted child growing inside of her, safe and secluded from its mother’s apathy.

She dismisses the thought. This pregnancy is not all about her and it would be hypocritical to fault Eren for repeating his own mistakes, she rationalizes, when she’s doing the same thing herself. Carrying an unwanted child all for the sake of others around her — at least Krista could make people happy in her subservience. A queen’s sacrifice is duty, and duty is a heavy burden rather than the deception she’d dealt with in the past.

Maybe this is another thing she and Eren have in common: They are both simply doing what they know. He is fighting, advancing, reaching for whatever justice he sees fit while she gives and gives to everyone but herself.

_There is comfort in the things we know, no matter how terrible._

It is a darkness, but one she knows well.

.

.

Eren takes in the ruin before him. Buildings decimated, debris swirling in the air. The cries and moans of the dying, gunshots from soldiers. All of it is chaos. Chaos that he created.

“I’m thankful...that everyone came for me.”

He looks over at Mikasa. He can feel her disappointment and sadness radiating off of her. It hurts him but in a distant way. Perhaps years ago, when it was easier to feel, he would’ve felt regret. At the very least he would’ve been able to feel shame for letting Mikasa down in this way. But knowing he had no other choice leaves him feeling only sorrow, no remorse.

“Eren, please,” Mikasa pleads, “come home.”

He wonders what home is. Is home the land you are born in? Is it familiar trees and patterns of stars in the sky? Is it the people you know and care for?

Mikasa and Armin used to feel like home to him, but so much has changed since those early days of fighting for what seemed right that he’s not sure how true that is anymore.

“Eren, do you understand what you’ve done? You killed civilians. You even killed children. That’s already irredeemable.”

Her voice cracks as she looks at the devastation below them.

Eren knows he is beyond redeeming, knows that the things he must sacrifice for a freedom he will never experience are greater than he could have imagined.

Who is he to say these people were more important than Historia? More important than her child?

He can’t think of it as his child. He’s as unfit to be a father as his own was. But at least he’s aware of that.

Eren has already left his humanity behind. It’s an easy thing to cast aside for the right reasons.

His eyes widen as he looks over into the rubble. The Warhammer Titan is moving, somehow recovering from Mikasa’s assault.

“Mikasa, it’s not over yet.”

Perhaps his reasons for sacrifice will be what saves him in the end, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on that now.

He’s not done here.


	3. Chapter 3

Sometimes she stares out into the trees. She thinks of how alive they are. Not only are they lush with leaves and filled with sap, in their branches there are insects that buzz, birds that nest and squirrels that make homes. She listens to the the summer cicadas, their constant hum an easy thing for her to lose herself in day by day.

The rocking chair squeaks as she pushes the porch with her stocking covered big toe. Back and forth, to and fro.

She closes her eyes and feels the sun on her cheeks. She’s spent the last month like this, the fair skin of her cheeks turned a reddish brown.  But she stays out here.

Waiting. Wilting. Floating.

It doesn’t move much anymore. Well, it does, but she has gotten good at ignoring it. Better.

“Come in, Historia. You need to take better care of your body.”

She looks right past him. She doesn’t care what he has to say and frankly has a difficult time remembering his name. There are three guards here. They don’t talk to her much, she mixes them all up from time to time and she prefers if they just leave her alone.

Since Mikasa left it has been harder to focus on anything. Time slips past her, days blurring together as it all passes by punctuated with times of wakefulness and sleep. She doesn’t know how long she’s sat out here today.

“Historia.”

He’s more persistent. He gets that way sometimes. She doesn’t want him to keep talking, so she goes inside.

.

.

She can’t lay on her back anymore. It’s too uncomfortable. She can only eat small amounts at a time because her chest starts to burn otherwise.

She opens the curtain of the window. A little of the moonlight from outside streams in, dappled by the thick canopy of trees surrounding the cabin.

It’d been a full moon on the night Eren left. The night that she’d asked him for this fate, this burden that she carries inside of her.

If she had known he had planned to leave she wonders if she would have asked him.

_Let’s forget circumstance then._

And they had, at least for a few hours. It’d felt good. Wonderful, even, to try and forget the hand that fate has dealt the two of them.

She didn’t expect to feel this angry. Why is it her fate to sit here with child while he is off doing what he believes is right? She’s known her whole life that she wasn’t meant to be born, existing entirely as an unwanted, unloved thing, so she doesn’t know why it surprises her that she’s left here.

She hasn’t even thought ahead to later when she will become the Beast Titan.

The thought is somewhat sickening. Years ago she’d rejected the power of the Founding and Attack Titans both. It seems strange to imagine herself as the Beast Titan.

_Is Eren really his titans? Or does he merely carry their powers inside of him?_

Will she become a beast herself? It surely does require a monstrous act; devouring another human...will she exist somewhere in between the space between monster and woman then?

Whatever Eren has planned with his brother will change things though. She wonders if it will be possible for her to sit passively upon her throne like the kings and queens before her or if what Eren has done will change everything they’ve planned for the future.

_Why didn’t he at least tell me what he’d planned?_

She’d thought that the trust between the two of them went deeper than that.

It kicks at her again. It does that, almost as if it knows that she’s trying to forget that it exists. When she drifts far enough it brings her back to her body, the tether that ties her here. Still, it’s hard to consider that she’s carrying a child who’s intended purpose is to kill its mother someday.

She wonders not for the first time if this is how her mother had felt when she was pregnant with her. If beyond the deep loathing for the child that would further ostracize her from society she’d felt scared and angry.

_I am the reason my mother is dead after all. I can’t blame her for not wanting me. It’s only fitting that my child kill me someday._

Historia doesn’t want to be her mother. She doesn’t think she’s capable of such cruelty, but she understands how she must have felt better now than she ever would have liked to.

.

.

The letter in her hand cuts through the fog. No, it’s more than that. It lights up her world like a brilliant flash of lighting. Who knew that paper and ink could be so powerful?

_To Her Grace Historia Reiss, Queen of the Walls:_

_Our expedition to Marley can be considered successful on many fronts and devastating in others. I regret to inform you that Sasha was killed by enemy fire. She, with the other six casualties have been buried with dignity here at home._

Historia begins to weep, hot tears streaming down her cheeks and wetting the page. How cruel it is that Sasha is lost to them and even worse that she’d no chance to even say goodbye. It’s strange to cry as everything has just been so hazy this month, but her heartache is too much to contain.

When her tears slow, she continues to read.

_Eren and his brother Zeke Jaeger have been both retrieved and detained accordingly._

_A trial will be held to deal with Eren’s insubordination in a week’s time._

_I admit that I feel ill-equipped to handle this situation. I fear that something in him is changed, that he is somewhere distant that none of us can reach him. More than ever I find myself wishing that I were not in my position as Commander. I assume this is a feeling you can relate to tenfold._

_I truly regret I cannot attend to you in the trial you are soon to endure, or perhaps already have. If I haven’t heard word of your well-being shortly I will send Mikasa._

_Respectfully,_

_Commander Zoe Hanji, 14th Commander of the Survey Corps._

Historia’s hand shakes as she scrambles for paper and ink. She nearly spills the inkwell as she writes fast and messily:

_Under no circumstance will you or any party hold trial proceedings for Eren Jaeger without my presence._

_Queen Historia Reiss_

She seals the envelope sloppily with wax. She doesn’t care if it looks messy, she is a queen and will be treated as such even if her penmanship is dreadful and her correspondence pedestrian.

She wobbles out to the guards and finds the short one who talks a lot.

“Shouldn’t you be resting--”

“Take this to Commander Hanji of the Survey Corps immediately.”

“Well I don’t think that’s--”

“Get on your horse immediately or so help me after I’ve this child I will make sure you are put in a prison where you never see sunlight for a year,” she threatens lowly. She’s tired of being dismissed, tired of being unheard, and she’s not going to tolerate it in this instance.

He stares at her blankly.

“ _Go!_  How much clearer do I need to be with you?”

The soldier jumps, clearly surprised to see her snapping in such a way. All the same, he gathers a few things, hops on his horse and rides the way that Mikasa left.

Her stomach is turning and feels slightly sick but she’s sure that it’s mostly how much energy she’s exerted.

The air in her lungs somehow feels fresher, her body less foreign and odd. Something about that letter had reminded her who she was. She is more than just a woman waiting in the woods, more than a vessel for a child doomed to a fate so terrible Historia can’t allow herself to think on it.

She is a queen, but more than that she is a survivor. She has weathered many storms, adapting and changing however she needed to to make it through to the other side. Many times she’d nearly lost herself.

_I was so close to that, close to losing myself again._

Historia runs a hand over her stomach and the child kicks up at her hand. It still scares her, still makes her feel the strangest panicked, terrified feeling.

_You didn’t choose this fate. You didn’t choose your parents._

She thinks back to the orphanage. She hasn’t gone to visit in almost a year now. She feels guilty thinking about the children who’d all come to love her. She even misses the cows and the fields. She’d walk and feel the breeze and the brush of wheat against her fingertips.

_I wish that that had been my only duty as a queen._

And for a while it had been. The military had been perfectly pleased to run the government, but she hadn’t been able to stand by and watch while everything around her changed.

Eren didn’t stand by. He wasn’t content to sit and watch, to  simply wait for to people tell him what he was to do with his titan power.

_And here we are._

Not for the first time she worries for him. She’s still so, so, angry with him and yet so, so, thankful that he’s back and at the very least in one piece.

At least, his body. She can’t be certain of his spirit. Even before he’d left she’d sensed things were changing for him. So many memories, so many people and places that were unfamiliar...sometimes it was as if he wasn’t truly there, rather looking into a world that no one else could see.

Since their time together years ago she’s always understood him in a way that can’t be fully put to words, only felt through shared experience. She’s seen him at his lowest, most desperate version of himself, when he’d had nothing to hide behind. She’s held his life in her hands, and in the end ultimately trusted him not only with the Reiss family legacy but also the future.

_Could I have been wrong?_

She remembers him looking at her, face covered in blood as he had begged her for death.

_No._

She didn’t make the wrong decision. If she doubts that day, she has to doubt everything and she can’t afford to think like that.

Historia runs her hand along the rough bark of an oak tree. The night air is cold around her as she closes her eyes and inhales deeply. She holds her breath for a moment, then lets it out slowly.

_Please Eren, wait for me. If anything just so I can be angry with you in person._

_._

_._

Eren stands in his cell. He looks into the mirror. It looks strange sometimes, looking and seeing his own reflection when he sometimes expects another face. The face of his father, the face of the other Eren, or even the face of Frieda Reiss.

He remembers Historia as a young girl sometimes.

_She’d been so happy to see me._

_Frieda._  She’d been happy to see Frieda.

Her face would light up the moment Frieda arrived, the times erased all rushing back to her as she saw her. Everything from the stories they read together, the crusty loaves of bread still warm from the oven they shared. Historia’s favorite jam was one made of black raspberries from the exterior and Frieda would bring a jar every time. Her manners had been that of a bastard as she’d lick the jam from her small fingers happily but Frieda never cared. Historia had been so happy to have someone to share things with, someone to talk to each time.

_Do you not care about what happens to Historia now?_

The thought makes Eren clench his hands so tightly around the ceramic of the sink his knuckles turn white.

There is no world, no life that he’s been unable to care about Historia Reiss, of that he is certain. Many things are uncertain, his ever fractured grip on reality seemingly more and more strained as the days pass by. Perhaps this is what happens with so many titan powers, so many lives, so many strands of fate converging through one person...but he’s certain this can’t be erased, indistinguishable from who he is, who he was, and who he will be.

_It doesn’t matter what I become...because I will still find you!_

Those words repeat far too often in his mind, Dina’s devotion cut with resignation to her fate is too much for him to forget. Perhaps this is the debt Eren must pay. His father’s burden unfairly passed down to him that he chooses to carry.

_I can’t let Historia share her fate. I just can’t._

He’d made a mistake that night. He’s certain they’d made a child. Hanji has all but confirmed it to him, but even before that he somehow knew.

_I couldn’t deny her then._

Perhaps it was the all too human side of him that had allowed for such a thing to happen. In the moment he’d wanted her, even needed her as much as she’d needed him too.

He clings to the fact that he’s done all he can to ensure she does not inherit the Beast Titan...if he can just do that, if he and Zeke can bring the earth to its knees together, then it will all have been worthwhile.

He has to keep fighting, has to keep moving if he’s going to accomplish anything. He’s given up too much already to stop now.

.

.

Historia wakes slowly. She’d been dreaming but she’s not sure of what. She’s left with the impression of Eren, but she can’t be sure if it’d involved him.

This happens to her so often she doesn’t let herself feel bothered about it.

_Why am I awake?_

She feels sick. That hasn’t been uncommon the last few weeks, but it’s unusual that it’s so bad she wakes up at night.

It’s still night, so she closes her eyes and tries to fall back asleep. She fails, but she lays awake in her bed all the same as pacing around will make her go mad.

By the time the sun is rising, Historia is too uncomfortable to sit still.

_No...it can’t be time._

She doesn’t know why she thinks that, it’s been nearly a year since she last saw Eren, and here she is. But it just can’t be.

She’s filled with dread and fear stronger than ever before as she feels pain. It starts out uncomfortable, then swells intensely before it abates again.

_Maybe it will stop._

But it doesn’t. She loses track of time pacing around her bedroom. She tries to reread Hanji’s letter, but as the pain grows the words become harder and harder to focus on.

_I admit that I feel ill-equipped to handle this situation._

_I feel ill-equipped._

_Ill-equipped–_

She cries out the next time the pain hits her but then quickly bites her hand. She doesn’t want anyone to hear her, at least not anyone who is around.

It’s no good though, the door opens without a knock. It’s the pushy guard, the one she dislikes the most.

“Historia, is it your time–”

“Get out!” she hisses. He stands in the doorway and another pain wracks her body and she moans loudly, gripping the edge of her desk.

When the pain lets up she gasps, her hands shaking. Without any warning she vomits onto the floor. The guard stands there in the doorway and in her anger she takes a paperweight and pitches it violently at his head. He barely dodges it as it makes a dent in the doorframe.

“I said leave!”

He leaves and all Historia can feel is grateful.

It all moves at a dizzying pace. She doesn’t understand exactly what’s happening. She’s helped deliver foals in the springtime and calves in the middle of the night, but her knowledge of what to do is escaping her.

She feels a trickle of liquid between her legs, then more until there’s a sizeable amount on the floor. She has a little remaining sense to note that the liquid is clear and somehow she remembers that that is important.

After that the pain intensifies almost instantly. It becomes so much that she nearly faints. It’s as if her body is operating on its own, that she’s merely a passenger to whatever is happening to her. The pain is so overwhelming, so constant that she can’t escape it, can’t think of anything else so she doesn’t even bother to try.

_I deserve this. I deserve this pain. I shouldn’t be a queen, I shouldn’t even be alive. Maybe this pain will kill me and it will all be over._

The breath from her lungs isn’t good enough anymore, the pressure is too much, too great and it’s all happening so fast. The entirety of her body contracts, but this time instead of turning away from it she leans into it, lets herself experience it in its entirety. She groans, then  instinctively she reaches down and catches the child. It’s blue and quiet.

_The cord is wrapped around its neck._

Shakily she she unwraps the cord as best she can. Somehow she knows to hit it on the back so she does, again and again until it cries out.  The relief she feels is so strong and instant that it borders on euphoria.

The child’s cry is loud, and their hands are clenched angrily.  

_Light brown hair._

Her thoughts are hazy and hard to make sense of. It’s the strangest combination of adrenaline and exhaustion pulsing through her body and she doesn’t know what to feel.

It takes all her strength to sit herself down on the bed. The crying child on her chest. It’s still odd and foreign to her, this thing that had been inside of her now outside.

She feels a sharp stab of pain, but it’s different from before. She looks down and sees that the bed is covered in blood between her legs.

“Help!” she cries out but she already feels faint. Her head swims and she falls back onto the pillow. The child cries louder but it begins to seem far away.

Someone runs into the room but her vision is swimming.

“Get the serum.” She hears distantly.

_What? No–_

“Take her to the pit outside, we can keep her there as long as we need to.”

She’s lifted up and the child is taken out of her arms, crying even louder than before.

“No,” she says shaking her head, “don’t, stop,” she says it as loudly as she can manage but it comes out barely a whisper.

Her head lolls to the side as she’s carried outside.

_No...this can’t be it...not now…_

It wasn’t supposed to be here, wasn’t supposed to be now that she becomes a titan. It was supposed to be on her terms, her way, in her own time.

“STOP!”

_Mikasa!_

Historia tumbles to the ground as Mikasa kicks the man carrying her in the head. The syringe of serum shatters on a stone next to her and Historia remembers the same thing happening years ago. Her vision is spotty, but she can feel her blood has coating the inside of her legs still.

_I’m going to die, this is it._

She feels tears in her eyes and she’s surprised she still has the energy to cry as she lays there face down in the dirt, exhausted, broken and bleeding out life.

Strong arms pick her up and cradle her

“Hold on Historia, just hold on.”

.

.

The world looks strange when Historia opens her eyes. She doesn’t know how she knows but she can tell that she’s been asleep for quite some time. Her mouth feels like it’s been packed with cotton and everything has a strange, almost dreamlike quality to it even though she’s certain she’s awake.

The room she’s in is unfamiliar. She’s never been here before and that thought alone is enough to make her feel slightly panicked.

_I was with Mikasa._

That eases her worry slightly.

There’s a glass of water on the nightstand. Sitting up is difficult and the initial effort is enough to make her vision swim. Her abdominal muscles are weak and she feels throbbing discomfort between her legs.

She takes a deep breath and tries again, this time managing to prop herself up against the headboard of the bed. She catches her breath from the exertion before she reaches over to the nightstand. She nearly drops the glass of water but manages to drink it. She can tell the water has been sitting there for a while because it tastes stale but it’s still the most refreshing thing she’s ever tasted. She drinks all of it so quickly that much of it dribbles down her chin and onto the bedding but she doesn’t care.

With shaking hands she sets the empty glass on the bedside table.

Before she can wonder where Mikasa is, the door opens quietly and Mikasa enters the room, a small bundle in her arms.

“Historia,” Mikasa says, her voice cracking and tears coming to her eyes, “you’re awake.”

Mikasa looks as tired as Historia feels. Her hair is messy and there are dark rings under her eyes and her usually vibrant complexion is unusually pale.

“I am,” Historia says, her voice raspy and strange from disuse, “what happened?”

Mikasa sits down in a chair near her bedside. Historia has to stop herself from peering into the bundle in her arms. She knows what’s there but she can’t let herself look.

_Not yet. I’m not ready._

“I insisted to Commander Hanji that I come back to you as soon as I could. She wanted me to wait longer but I had a bad feeling, so I convinced her I needed to come and it’s fortunate I did. I kicked the guard holding you in the head before he could…” Mikasa hesitates, unable to bring herself to say the words so Historia simply nods for her to continue.

Mikasa clears her throat awkwardly. “Anyways, you were bleeding so much afterward I didn’t know what to do. Commander Hanji sent me with medicines from Marley just in case you needed them...I didn’t know what else to do, so I injected you with one of them and took you into town. We’re at a local woman’s home, she brought the town midwife over. What happened is apparently you bled because there’s an...organ, I forget what it’s called, but it’s for pregnancy. It’s supposed to be expelled after childbirth but part of it stayed inside of you and caused all of the bleeding. The medicine I gave you helped it get out...I pieced it all together to make sure that none of it was missing, but you need to rest to be certain that there aren’t any more complications.”

Historia blinks a few times.

“How long was I asleep?”

Mikasa looks down at the bundle in her eazarms. Historia watches as she tenderly brushes her finger over what must be the child’s forehead.

“Two days. Don’t worry, she’s a very good baby, I’ve been feeding her goat milk and holding her until you woke. She’s barely cried.”

_She._

Historia hadn’t even had time to see if the child was a boy or a girl. Her chest tightens. It’s not that she’d prefer a boy at all, but she knows now more than ever how hard life is for girls.

Wordlessly Mikasa stands up and puts the baby in Historia’s weak arms. She doesn’t know if she will ever be ready for this moment but in her heart she knows it has to come.

Historia looks down at her face and feels tears well up in her eyes. She’d expected to feel nothing, only the apathy and fear that she’d felt for all these months but it couldn’t be further from that.

_This poor unwanted child...unwanted just like me._

This child is marked by blood for a great and terrible fate, just as Historia had been the moment that she’d been born a Reiss.

She runs a finger along the baby’s soft, smooth cheek.

_We’re both in lots of trouble, aren’t we? We’ve got to stick together._

She’d promised that if she saw someone in trouble, someone hurting that she would help them. Looking upon the face of the child who is meant to bring about her demise, Historia can’t help but feel this child is perhaps in the most trouble of all.

The baby stirs a little in her sleep, but instead of waking up to cry she simply nuzzles closer to Historia’s breast. The movement is so innocent, so genuine that it nearly makes her gasp.

_She needs me._

Historia can’t let such a terrible fate befall this child. She’d thought she was strong enough when she’d agreed to this plan, she’d thought that she’d be able to sacrifice whatever she needed to to do what was right.

She’d been wrong.

It was easy to sacrifice herself, to volunteer her body, heart and mind for the good of others, but this child in her arms is something she can’t give away. She doesn’t exist for others, she exists for herself.

The night Eren left he’d told her as much, that she didn’t believe that her child would be the same as any other subject to command.

_Eren understood before I did._

The baby sleeps peacefully in her ignorance, the warmth of her mother’s arms the only thing she even knows to want for.  

_I’m going to save you, little one. I don’t know how, but I won’t let you down._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how I will approach ending this story. Stay tuned. This is rough and unedited forgive me.

“If you could walk with me before everyone arrives I would greatly appreciate it, I plan to just come in the back instead of down the main corridor,” Historia says as her hair is brushed and twisted into a bun, “I think I will be fine, but if I stumble I don’t want anyone to see.”

Mikasa looks bored as she leans against the wall, arms crossed and expression blank. After years of knowing her she’s learned this is a facade, but Historia still isn’t quite sure of what she’s thinking. 

“I still think you should reconsider your presence at this trial. It hasn’t even been a week since the baby was born.”

Historia glances into the bassinet beside her. The baby is asleep, wrapped happily in a bundle of blankets. She just ate and Historia can’t help but think the timing is very good for both of their comfort.

The child remains nameless. Historia doesn’t know what to call her. She’d thought of naming her Frieda, but it feels wrong to place such a burdened name upon a baby. She encounters the same problem with every name she knows. 

_ I hope I think of something before the people decide to name her herself.  _

Historia adjusts the padding she’s stuffed down into her brassiere. Motherhood comes with its own trials that she hadn’t been told to expect. Not for the first time she’s found herself wishing she’d had her own mother to guide her and help her in this new role. It fills her with a sense of doubt and insecurity that she immediately pushes aside.

_ I didn’t have anyone to teach me to be a queen. I don’t need someone to teach me to be a mother either.  _

“Does this look bulky?” she asks Mikasa and her handmaid, ignoring Mikasa’s concern entirely. 

Mikasa sighs, resigned to Historia’s stubbornness and shakes her head ‘no.’ 

“Good.” 

Historia looks to the wet nurse, a woman named Gina who she’d quickly selected to take care of the baby when Historia is needed. 

“I hope she is full and sleeps the whole time I’m away, but if she isn’t I am glad to know she is cared for.” 

Historia looks into the bassinet and leans down to gently press a kiss on the soft head of the child, lingering for a moment just to take in her smell.

_ I’m going to go and figure things out for the both of us.  _

“Okay, let’s go Mikasa.” 

.

.

The courtroom is packed full of people, mostly members of the military in their dress uniforms. Eren recognizes some faces, but not all of them. Every seat is filled except one notable vacancy.

His hands are cuffed behind his back uncomfortably. It’s strange how many times he’s made appearances like this considering his relatively short life. 

He feels every eye on him as he stands and waits. 

The room is silent in anticipation. When a door pops open, the whole room stands. 

Seeing Historia again for the first time in nearly a year is better than fresh air, better than sunlight, better than any number of comforts he could imagine. 

Then he notices how slowly she moves, how each step seems something of an effort no matter how firmly she clenches her jaw in denial. She sits down carefully, the briefest flash of discomfort flitting across her face as she settles herself before she settles. 

She nods and everyone in the room sits down. Then, finally, she looks at him.

Her expression is blank and difficult to read, but in her eyes he sees barely restrained anger. 

“Let us begin,” she says cooly. 

Darius Zackley looks through papers and clears his throat before he speaks.  

“On this day we gather to examine the offenses of the accused, Eren Jaeger of the Survey Corps. He is charged with insubordination, desertion, conspiracy, and collusion with the enemy. Please state your case.”

Eren feels bored listening to these supposed crimes rattled off as if they compare at all to what has already been put into motion. 

“I did what I did because I had no other choice. To enslave ourselves for fifty more years when it’s already been over a century, I won’t allow it. Not when I have the power to stop it. Fifty years more, living as animals trapped on this island,” the words are acid in his mouth as he can barely contain his disgust. He looks at Historia, her face unreadable. 

He’s in a room of people who all once believed in him, all once depended upon him who he has let down. Mikasa and Armin, the two he’d thought as a child he’d never leave seem so far from him. 

He’s already failed Historia, but he can’t stop trying, can’t stop hoping he can save her and her child from sharing his own fate. 

_ Because I will still find you! _

Eren’s temple throbs and he has to stop himself from yelling when Dina’s face flashes again through his mind. 

_ No, not yet, I haven’t failed her there.  _

“All of you were happy to cling to her skirts, to let her sacrifice herself and her children for generations. None of you can understand what she agreed to the way I can, none of you know what this is like!” 

“It was  _ my  _ choice to make, Eren,” Historia says lowly, her queenly demeanor already melting away with her barely contained fury, “you took that away from me when you pushed our country into this war before we even stand a chance. The whole world is watching us now, all because of you and your inability to see reason–”

“I don’t  _ care  _ about reason. I don’t care about the lives I took because who can say they’re worth sacrificing your’s? Your family’s? You didn’t do anything wrong, your children did nothing wrong just the same as any of the people I killed, so why do you have any less value than them, why am I supposed to accept that?” 

“Because I am your Queen.”

The whole room is silent absent of even the usual shuffling of bodies or breathing. 

_ I can’t be a good girl and I don’t want to be a God.  _

“Then I have no queen, she is my enemy,” everyone gasps as he steps forward, “I only care for Historia Reiss. I left here for her, I returned here for her, and I remain here for her,” Eren looks up and speaks directly to Historia. Closer he can see how pale and weary she looks. Their time apart she has seen an unknowable amount of hurt that he is in many ways responsible for, something he can already cannot forgive himself for.

“I could destroy this entire building easily, I could break out of these handcuffs, find my brother and carry out our plan with no regard for what any of you want, but I don’t because of you. Maybe now I am humanity’s enemy, but I am  _ your  _ ally, Historia.” 

Historia’s eyes well up with tears. They roll down her cheeks and into her lap as she remembers years ago when she’d said the same thing to him. It was both yesterday and a lifetime ago, but Eren has known many lifetimes and this one still stands out, shimmering and brighter than anything he can hold on to. 

“Unbind him and move him to regular quarters. It’s performative to do otherwise, and at the very least he can be trusted to remain here for the moment–”

“Your grace–”

“He’s made his motives clear. There’s nothing you can say to change his mind, and nothing you can say to change mine.” 

Historia looks at him one last time, her gaze lingering and queenly facade back in place. She stands up slowly, using her arms on the edge of her chair to lift herself rather than her legs, then slowly exits the room. The military officers murmur and glare. 

_ They’re not pleased with this.  _

It doesn’t matter what they want. By blood and purpose Historia is too important for them to deny, the very legacy that binds her to fate the one thing that protects her from her own people. 

_ I won’t let you down.  _

.

.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Historia says quietly to the baby. Historia holds her close as she cries and struggles to eat. With a bit of fumbling the baby manages to figure things out, relatively content for the moment. 

Historia sighs and leans back in her chair. She’s tired. She finds herself thinking she’s more tired than she’s ever been only to continue growing more tired. 

Something needs to happen or Eren will be fed to someone early. She’s done everything she can to appease her council of advisors but she can tell when an agreement is tenuous at best. 

_ They still think me a nobody in everything but name with a bastard heir. At the first opportunity they will kill Eren.  _

When the baby is done feeding she falls asleep. Carefully Historia buttons her dress and wraps the baby in a blanket. It’s well into the night and most should be asleep. 

She takes no main corridors, only small servant hallways that remain empty. They’ve reduced the staff to maintain these operations as much as possible as resources are needed elsewhere, so she’s fortunate to not run into anyone that may recognize her. 

Outside of Eren’s door she takes a deep breath. It seems almost a lifetime ago that he’d knocked on her door.

_ Everything has changed.  _

She looks one last time at the baby sleeping happily in her arms, then knocks on the door. 

After a moment, Eren opens the door and lets her step inside. He doesn’t seem surprised that she’s here. She can’t read his expression well. It’s difficult to be left with nothing when there’d been a time she’d understood him.

His accommodations are sparse but comfortable enough. The bed is neatly made and the chair by the desk is pushed out as if he’d just gotten up from it. The room is dimly lit by lamplight. 

Historia stands there, an infant in her arms and already weary as she looks at him, really, truly looks at him for the first time in almost a year. 

His hair is long enough to be tied back and his expression is grim, but most unsettling of all are his eyes. Where they’d once been expressive and telling they are now distant. 

“Are you here, Eren?” She doesn’t dance around it, doesn’t want to make her intention any less clear, “Because I can tell you that I don’t need to have a conversation with anyone else. I need you, Eren. Here. Now.” 

He sits down on the small, worn sofa and rubs at his temple, clearly weary before he speaks. 

“Yes, Historia.”

The way he says her name is enough for her to breathe a little easier. There’s a softness there that reminds her of who he is, who he always has been. 

“But I understand why you ask that. It’s hard for me. If I am honest, the only thing that makes sense to me is you,” he says lowly, “it’s the only common thread, the only thing I’ve managed to hang on to this whole time.”

“What do you mean? I need you to explain to me, Eren. I’m in the dark, and I can’t help you any more than I’ve already done,” her voice is desperate as she speaks these words aloud. She didn’t realize how much she needed him, how she’s not ready to let him go. 

“The power of three titans, the inherited memories are overwhelming. I can’t explain it to you clearly.”

“Then at least explain to me  _ why  _ did you leave me? Why did you agree to help me make a child and then leave me on my own if you care so much?” 

“You asked me to help you and it was a mistake, I shouldn’t have done what I did. I should have just left you instead of letting it become so personal but I couldn’t do that, I wasn’t strong enough. I shouldn’t have let myself pretend for even a moment that things could be normal, that we could have each other and be bound to anything besides the hand that fate has dealt us,” he stops and takes a shaky breath, “my life has been controlled by the path my father set for me since the day I was born. I’m certain it was always his intention that I inherit his titan power, even if he hadn’t taken the founding titan...I’ve never been able to escape that, but I want better for you, and for your child.”

“ _ Our  _ child, a daughter,” Historia corrects softly. 

Eren shakes his head and looks away.

“It’s better if she is only yours, better that she has no father. We both know how terrible fathers can be.”

“Mothers can be just as wicked as fathers,” Historia says gravely. 

_ If only I’d had the courage to kill you.  _

“But we cannot change the fact that you are her father. Even if we could, I wouldn’t want to.” 

He looks up at Historia, surprised, eyes glassy with the regrets of many lifetimes. She walks toward him and cradles his cheek in her left hand, their daughter snuggled into the crook of her other arm. His surprise passes and he leans into her and covers her hand with his own. He closes his eyes and sighs. A rush of relief floods her, every moment of anger and bitterness she’d felt over the last year melting away. 

_ He does care. He’s not completely lost.  _

Without asking she leans down and places the child in his arms. The baby makes a few soft sounds in her sleep, but then settles back into the warmth of her father’s arm. After a moment, Eren looks down at the child. His eyes widen as he studies her face, staring for a long while. A tear rolls down his cheek but he makes no move to wipe it away, simply allowing it to fall. 

Historia sits down next to him carefully on the sofa, their thighs pressed up against the other. She lets herself lean against him, the warmth of his body so soothing she doesn’t even think to restrain herself. 

“I can’t decide who she resembles more,” she runs a fingertip gently over the baby’s brow, “she’s already changed so much since I first saw her, but I think she looks like you, your chin perhaps,” she says lightly. 

“Does she have a name?” 

“No, everything I’ve thought of is someone dead and it makes me too sad,” Historia says plainly, “I should really name her after Mikasa,” Historia jokes, “she helped me through my pregnancy and saved me from being turned into a titan early.”

“ _ What? _ ”

“I started to bleed too much after she was born. I was alone, and the guards must have been instructed to change me if something went wrong. They were about to do it, but Mikasa rode in just in time to save me. She carried me into town to a midwife and cared for the baby while I recovered.”

“I already owed Mikasa more than I could ever repay and yet she always manages to do more.”

Historia hums her agreement. 

“I heard a name when I was away. Miriam, it starts the same way as Mikasa,” Eren says distantly.

Historia smiles softly.

“I think I like that.” 

“Miriam,” Eren says again, the name still foreign sounding to Historia’s ears, “Miriam Reiss.” 

They sit there for a moment, looking down on the face of their daughter that has become so very wanted.

“I understand what you said the night you left,” Historia says softly, “I can’t let such a terrible fate befall her...I just can’t do it.”

Eren nods, his eyes not leaving Miriam’s face. 

“Do you have a plan?” Historia asks.

“It will become clear at the right moment,” he says.

It’s cryptic and strange, but she knows that in this she has to choose to trust him. She has to trust him in this. 

_ He trusted me years ago to make the right choice. He begged me to eat him, to end him, to take everything he was and I didn’t. Now I have to do the same. _

“I’ve bought you time, but it’s borrowed. At the nearest opportunity the military will find a way to feed you to someone.”

“The thing we are shortest on is time. It won’t be an issue. I will be forced to act before that could transpire, and then it won’t matter anymore,” he takes Miriam’s tiny hand in his own, “the world will be different. No more walls, no more fears, simply a new world.”

Historia wants so badly to believe him, wants to believe in this better world not for herself but for her friends, for Miriam. 

_ And maybe I will be able to live my own way. On my terms. _

Without thinking too much about it, she pulls Eren gently down to her and kisses him on the mouth. Light and tender, no more than a press of her lips against his but it makes her stomach turn and cheeks feel warm. 

She pulls away and he leans his head against her’s. 

“In that new world you’re talking about...” Historia pauses.  It’s too hard, too scary to voice something so close to how she feels and she can’t do it, she just can’t. “We can try to figure out things between us.”

That’s close enough, but not too much. She always goes too far, and it always hurts to love so much only to lose people. 

Eren says nothing, simply laces his hand with hers and looks down at Miriam in his arms, his head leaning up against her own.

Thing are not okay, the world is dark and their people are on the brink of destruction, and things between her and Eren are simultaneously more confusing yet clearer than ever before. 

_ I was right to choose you. For better or worse, we are in this together.  _

She lets herself enjoy his presence and the peace between him, her, and their child. 

_ Even if it’s only for now.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miriam means in Hebrew a very wanted child. I thought it was fitting and a little bittersweet considering the situation. I like Hebrew snk names being Jewish myself yolo.


End file.
